


How we Land

by Skylark



Series: SASO 2016 [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!, ダイヤのA | Daiya no A | Ace of Diamond
Genre: Character Study, Crossover Pairings, Denial, Emotionally Repressed, Hook-Up, M/M, Minor Iwaizumi Hajime & Oikawa Tooru, Rough Sex, Unreliable Narrator, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 04:44:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7154078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylark/pseuds/Skylark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're not exactly strangers, but Miyuki wants the premise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How we Land

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sotong_sotong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sotong_sotong/gifts).



> [Title Credit](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z_XJnadOFr4)

By now, it's a habit to swing a leg over Oikawa's thighs and settle into his lap. Oikawa's in a mood tonight; he doesn't waste time before opening his mouth. Miyuki sucks on his tongue, lazy and thorough, and Oikawa's answering touch is anything but gentle, but that's fine, Miyuki doesn't want that. Strangers shouldn't be gentle.

They're not exactly strangers anymore, but Miyuki wants the premise, holds to it the way Oikawa holds onto his hips, practically hurling him off his lap and onto the mattress beside him. Miyuki lands with a bounce that startles the laugh from his lungs, makes it come out breathless. Oikawa's on him at once, his eyes open and his mouth hungry, and Miyuki realizes for the first time that he's wearing contact lenses.

It's hard not to learn things about a person you sleep with on the regular. Miyuki has an eye for detail, especially for things that people would rather him not see. He knows the way Oikawa moves when he's faking it or when he's into it; the way his breath hitches when he wants pain, or hisses out between his teeth when he doesn't. 

They've never formally introduced themselves. They pretend they haven't looked each other up online. Miyuki's not supposed to know Oikawa's first name, but he's mapped the sweep of his scapulae a dozen times, and he thinks that's introduction enough.

They don't talk much, but tonight Oikawa's mouth pulls away from his own. "Stop it," he says, "I can see you thinking, stop it, just _fuck me._ "

"What if I don't want to fuck you tonight," Miyuki replies, and Oikawa's frown grows thunderous.

"Spread your legs, then," he growls, and Miyuki does, eyes widening despite himself, his grin growing manic from the prickle of adrenaline. 

Oikawa knows things about him, too. He knows the tempo Miyuki likes, and also knows to use it sparingly: it's the unpredictability of a stuttering pace that forces Miyuki's brain offline. Miyuki mouths at Oikawa's neck, allowing himself to be driven to mindlessness. It's safe enough. If he wanted to, he could leave after this and Oikawa would never see him again. It doesn't mean anything if someone like Oikawa knows some small things about him. He's little better than a stranger, he thinks, just a stranger, and it's easy to lose himself to that. It's so easy, he thinks, that it's almost like he's not losing anything at all.

\--

The sheet slides from Oikawa's shoulders to pool in his bare lap. The dark blue of the cloth is a striking contrast against his pale skin—his fangirls admire his complexion, and Iwaizumi glares at him for it, saying he looks unhealthy. For his part, of course he's vain about it. He cares for his skin with creams, an excellent diet, and studious avoidance of the sun. The last one works well with his tendency to keep long nights that blur into early mornings.

Oikawa's always been an early riser, anyway.

He slips from the bed without waking Miyuki, moving with an ease that comes from long practice. He rubs at his eyes, gritty from leaving his contacts in, and picks his way across the messy floor to the bathroom.

Miyuki has a poker face that Oikawa is endlessly jealous of, but his house is honest in a way his mouth never is. Even if Oikawa hadn't done his research, it would be impossible to miss the carefully tended baseball glove resting on top of his gym bag, the clippings of news from other former Seido players that lie scattered across his desk, the college diploma that hangs on the wall. Oikawa can't find himself anywhere, which is what he wants, of course.

Quickly he splashes his face with water, rinses his mouth, and then begins the task of searching his body carefully for marks.

Oikawa is the one who set the rules, though Miyuki had agreed with a readiness that bordered on relief. No chaste kisses, no names. It's easier that way, he thinks, one hand digging into the tense muscle of his shoulder as he tilts his chin to the side, his eyes sweeping across his naked body. Safer.

( _Is this what you want?_ Iwaizumi asked him once, a little helpless and a lot angry, eyes lingering on the dark splotch on his jugular.

 _I'm perfectly satisfied,_ Oikawa replied with a smile, and spent that evening learning how to apply concealer.)

There are no marks this time; the makeup in his bag will last a little longer, then. The morning routine completed, he dresses himself with quick efficiency. Outside, birds are beginning to sing to the dawn. Miyuki stirs a little in his sleep, one arm flopping out as if searching for something. Oikawa's hands fumble with the buckle of his belt before steadying.

It's easier this way, he repeats to himself as he sees himself out, the door locking behind him as he goes.

**Author's Note:**

> [Original Prompt](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/13489.html?thread=4654769#cmt4654769): _Remember when you didn't know what you wanted, and every stranger made you feel safer? (But then, you got used to it; to being lonely.)_


End file.
